


Dead Things

by caradoxing (saunteredvaguelydownward)



Series: Molly Amell [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Implied/Referenced Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 07:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5776438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saunteredvaguelydownward/pseuds/caradoxing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly Amell hates the cold, but not without reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Things

Orzammar was bad enough, but the moment they step into the Deep Roads, Molly begins to find it completely unbearable. This space which is altogether too big and not nearly big enough at the same time, with its colossal hollows under a ceiling which she cannot be certain will not coming crashing down on her. She shivers against the stagnant air, wishing for the fireside again, for the warmth of the sun on her skin again. _This is a place for dead things_ , she thinks _._

Suddenly she is sixteen again, feet pressed against the cold slab floor of her cell. It is the thing that keeps her alert, that and the knowledge that they will come to release her soon. She does not squirm, does not say a word. It is nothing new, almost routine now. It was only a petty offense this time, so she knows that she will be out within the week. Still, she saves this in her mind, as she always does, letting it fuel her bitter fury. 

Suddenly she is eleven again, shivering against the stone beneath her. Her teeth chatter against one another as though they are waging war. There is a pallet, as there always is, but this time she does not take it this time. They give her a little so they can keep pretending they are not monsters. So they can sleep at night. She knows she will find no rest here on the floor but it is little price to pay to remind them of the truth. _I know what you are. I can see the rot in your hearts. There is no warmth in you._

Suddenly she is eight again, cheeks against cold metal bars as she reaches for the Templars as walk away. She is raging, screaming until her throat is raw but it seems to be of no use. They can’t leave her here. She just got here a week ago. Someone will come. Someone has to come. The nice old man in charge, maybe. One of the other mages. Mother and father… A cold feeling settles in her chest, deeper and crueler than the cool around her. _No one is coming._

Suddenly she is six again, sobbing in their cellar. Her hands are sore, bloody in places from where she had pounded against the door. She hadn’t meant it, she swears. She hadn’t even touched him, but he had flown across the field and hit the ground with a sickening crack all the same. She promised she would say sorry when he woke up, but mother and father hadn’t listened. _Please, I promise I’ll be good._

Suddenly she is back, staring down the mouth of a yawning cavern. She shivers again, but this time she is not entirely certain it’s because of the cold.

And then there is a palm pressed gently against hers and it feels like someone has handed her the sun. She looks over to bright, shining eyes and a radiant smile and can feel the warmth settle deep in her chest.

_This is a place for dead things. I do not belong here._


End file.
